The Ringtail's Kitten
by Sparkle-Chan
Summary: Sly found an orphan on the streets, and without thinking first, takes him in. Sly may regret it a bit, but when he has a choice to make, will he stick with the orphan? Read and review please.
1. The Escape, The Vase, and The Stairs

Sly slowly maneuvered himself about the lasers, taking a careful step here, a cautious step there. Then he stopped, for he had reached his treasure. He carefully snatched the vase, for it was a vase of much value. He carefully tucked the vase into his carrying sack, and headed for the exit.

Naturally, he made it out without getting caught, but on the way through the shadows of the streets, a familiar voice spoke up. "Going somewhere, Ringtail?"

Sly whirled around to face Officer Carmelita Montoya Fox. "Ah, Inspector Fox, fancy meeting you here. You come to Paris often?"

"As often as you, Sly," she sneered, her shock pistol raised.

Sly made a mock surprised gesture. "You know, Carmelita, I always thought that when I finally had girls chasing me around the globe, I'd feel kind of good about it," he paused for a moment. "Look, I don't want to disappoint you, but I really have to see somewhere. How about another night?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and dashed into the darkness. No doubt Officer Fox was on his striped tail…

As Sly dashed through the streets of Paris, he skirted up the steps of a small café to continue his getaway. He uttered a high-pitched yelp when he bumped into someone. He couldn't see the shape; the lights from the café had been turned off, but whoever it was fell down the steps and finally stopped at the bottom, dead, with a broken neck. Sly stared at it for a moment, but then hurried off. If Carmelita found him with a dead body, she would naturally assume it had been his intention to harm… whoever that was.

As he hurried the rest of the way into the safe house, the sound of Carmelita's boots died out into nothing. Sly groaned. She must have found the dead guy. Sly slipped into the safe house and placed the vase on the table. "Here it is."

Bentley and Murray turned around and looked. "No Carmelita?" Bentley asked.

"She got held up," Sly replied staring at his feet.

"Oh, well, good job Sly. This vase will get us some nice money. Get some rest."

Sly headed for his bed, making no thoughts of disobeying the order-like request.


	2. Cold, Alone, and Orphaned

Sly was out on the streets of Paris again, this time pick pocketing, for fun, of course. And money… that too.

He traveled through a dim street, annoyed that there were no people there, when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of sobs. He turned his head ever-so-slightly, as to pick up exactly where they were coming from; to pinpoint the sobs. And the one who was sobbing.

He snuck into a small alley where the crying seemed to be coming from, and took a step, and slowly, one more. The crying went on and Sly then recognized it as the sobbing of a child. He thought pf leaving now, but curiousity drove him farther into the alley.

It was then he saw the small heap of fur, its shoulders rhythmically heaving up and down as the pitiful creature cried. Sly slowly bent down and tapped the creature on its shoulder. It jumped and looked up at him.

Sly finally saw that the heap of fur was a small kitten, maybe about 7 or 8 years old. It was an orange tabby, with a white muzzle and wide green eyes. He wore just a blue shirt with a hole in it, and his green eyes held pure fear as they looked up from their crying spree. He didn't speak, he stared.

"Um, hi… I heard you crying and I…" Sly thought about what to say. He hadn't expected a young kitten to hang around in an alley, he'd kind of expected a half crazy guy at the end of his rope, some one who'd commonly be seen as the victim of cruel acts like mugging. Sly rolled his eyes. Mugging was for amateurs; pick pocketing took skill.

The kitten stared at him with his wide green eyes, but made no noise.

"Um… what's wrong?" he finally decided to ask, getting no response to common greetings.

"I'm an orphan. My dad died. I'm scared of what they'll do, where they'll send me," The kitten replied.

Sly stared at the kitten. "Funny you're an orphan." The cat stared at him with an expression of shock and bewilderment. "I'm an orphan too. My parents were murdered… How did your parents die?"

"My mom died when I was born, Dad says she did that so it would be easier to watch over me, and protect me," he mewed.

"And your dad? Was he murdered?"

"No, he wasn't murdered, some one killed him."

Sly laughed, "Okay… So, what was your name again?"

"Wyoming Joe Travers," he replied quickly. "Or just Wyoming."

"Nice to meet you, Wyoming. My name's Sly Cooper. Or just Sly." He extended his hand to shake with the kitten's, and the kitten outstretched his own hand. "Wyoming, look, I've been an orphan too, and the orphanages are crud. They treat you like your in jail, only a little better. Why don't you come with me? I know what its like to feel alone." Sly thought about what he had just said. He was taking the kid!

Wyoming looked into Sly's brown eyes and the gazes were locked for a moment before the kitten's fell and Wyoming was taken by thought. "You'd really do that?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sly replied instantly.

"Okay, then I'll come with you."


	3. Bedtime Stories

The journey home with the orphaned kitten was difficult. Trying to sneak around and keep the kid quiet was a true master's task. But all the same they'd made it back to the safe house with only three real close calls.

Bentley looked up, stared at Wyoming for about a minute, took of his glasses, polished them against the table cloth, and then put them back on. "Sly, you stole a kid?"

Sly twitched his ear. "Okay, Wy, come on, time for bed." He said, scoping the kit off his shoulders and walked into the part of the house with the bed. There were three cots and an old smelly hammock. Sly and the gang slept on the cots, the hammock was pretty much always empty. With the kit still cradled in his arms, he put the kit onto his own cot and pulled up the covers for him, thinking of his father. Then as he turned to leave, Wyoming meowed, "Wait!"

Sly turned. "Yeah?"

"Can't you read me a bedtime story?" Wyoming asked.

Sly smiled at first as a bittersweet memory washed over him.

_Sly was very young as he lay on his own bed. The hands of a raccoon pulled up the covers for him. They were his father's. His father turned to leave, and Sly yelled out, "Wait!" _

_His father turned and looked at him. Then he walked back over to the bedside and crouched down. "Yes, Sly?"_

"_Daddy, can you read me a bedtime story? Please?" Sly asked, staring into his father's kind eyes. _

"_I can't, I'm pretty busy tonight, son. Maybe tomorrow."_

_But he would not read the tale tomorrow. _

_Sly sat in his bed and stared at the book he had hoped his father would read him. It was just a short simple nursery fable. He stared at his door. Maybe he could go ask again, maybe Dad wasn't as busy now._

_Just as Sly pushed open his bedroom door, the front door to the house opened, and five creatures poured. Sly's eyes widened with fear and he retreated a bit into his room, the door ajar so he could see the fight. He gasped as the blow from the owl was landed, and his parents lay dead. After the creatures left with bits and pieces of his father's favored book, the theivius raccoonus, Sly crept out of hiding. He touched his father's shoulder. "Dad? Dad, wake up… It's not bedtime for you yet… Dad? Dad? Wake up… please…"_

"Please?" Wyoming meowed.

Sly stared at the kitten. "I can't," he said shortly, "I'm pretty busy tonight." It felt weird saying the words he'd just heard his father say in his memory, and he wondered if something like that would ever happen to him. What if it did? What if he died without telling some one he truly cared about that he loved them? What if he died while some one close was mad at him? Sly shook his head. He needn't worry about that now. Besides, he really did have work to do.

As he sat at the table and listened to Bentley drone on about a plan, he wondered… Had his father really been too busy to read him the story?


	4. The Apprentice

Sly awoke the next night uncomfortably. The others were still weary of Wyoming, and Sly wasn't as fond of him as he'd thought. The hammock was so uncomfortable, he'd hardly slept, while in the meantime he was taunted by the soft snores of all those around him, and the sound the cots made when you rolled over. He tried to roll over on the hammock and ungracefully fell off. It was relieving to know he'd even slept as all as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Wyoming woke up at about the same time, and pulled on Sly's hammock. That of course unbalanced it. "Sly, are you awake?" He asked as he shook the hammock. After a bit, it spun, and Sly fell out and onto his cot with a soft thud. Sly looked like he wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

"Yes, I'm awake," he replied bitterly. He sighed. He had to do _something_ with this kid, but what? Sly thought, then finally decided on something. "Wyoming, follow me."

He headed into the room where they did their planning and sat down. Wyoming sat on the chair next his. "Okay," Sly started, "What do you know about thieves?"

"Thieves? Thieves are bad people who hurt others for their own selfish needs. If some one dies while their stealing or something, its no big deal, the person was just in the way. They're people who can't succeed in life because their no good at being anything more than a jerk. Is that right? It's what my dad told me."

Sly sighed. "You sound like Carmelita," he muttered, remembering briefly his own father's definition of thief. Honorable, cunning, clever… Sly shook his head. "No, that's not a thief, he clarified, "That's a crook, or a burglar. There's a difference between thief and crook/burglar," Sly said, defending himself.

"Oh," Wyoming said. "Then what's a thief?"

"Thieves are… thieves are people who steal for purposes known only to them. They refrain from hurting others if necessary… They… uh… They are honorable, cunning, and clever, and never steal from other thieves. Cops and ordinary citizens tend to get thieves confused with crooks and burglars… uh…" Sly tried to think.

"Hang on, so is a robber more like a thief, or more like burglars and crooks?" Wyoming asked.

Sly smacked himself on the face. "Crooks…and burglars, I guess. Any way, listen, now that you've heard my definition, the right definition, what do you say?"

"I say they are still selfish and mean, and they still rely on others."

"Okay, that's just splendid," Sly lied sarcastically, "Listen Wyoming, I'm a thief."

Wyoming stared at him with large bewildered eyes. "Huh?" he finally uttered.

"I steal from my enemies because they've stolen things from me, and… it's like revenge… any way, I'm gonna give you a choice. Would you rather stay here with me, even though I'm a thief, or leave and go to an orphanage?" Sly asked. Part of him almost wanted the kitten to stay.

"I… I don't know… I don't want to go to an orphanage, so… uh… I guess I'll stay."

"Okay," Sly murmured, "but you can't stay with a band of thieves and expect to sit around doing nothing. How would you like to become my apprentice, Wyoming? My apprentice in thieving. After I train you, you'll be good enough to be a master thief, like myself."

Wyoming's eyes widened. "Your apprentice? So I'd get to hang out with you? That'd be cool!"

"Okay," Sly said, "Then it's off to the hazard room we go."


	5. The Cooper Cane

A few weeks later…

After some tough training in the Hazard Room, Wyoming felt he was truly wiped out. But Sly was proud. He'd done everything right, even if they had to work at it a bit. They started with cane swings, where Sly let the kitten use his cane, and then moved on to climbing pipes, walking on wires, and wall hooks. They'd worked on recon photos, and pick pocketing. Wyoming had taken out foes, escaped from fights by running, and learned many other things. All in all, both Wyoming and Sly were tired of training for the time being, and decided to take a break.

Now the pair sat at the table in the safe house, munching on burritos. Wyoming picked all the lettuce off of his own before downing them, then they shared a 2 liter bottle of diet coke.

Sly let out a satisfied sigh once the food was finished. "Okay, Wy, I think you're ready."

Wyoming looked at the raccoon with startled eyes. "What? Ready for what?"

"For a real mission," Sly said, smirking.

"A real mission? Really?" Wyoming exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes," Sly chuckled, "A really real mission. But first…" Sly got up and walked into the bedroom. Wyoming waited. After two minutes, the ringtail returned. He was holding a wrapped box. "Um, for being a good apprentice. You'll need it for the mission." He handed the tabby the box, and Wyoming stared at it for a moment in awe.

He then slowly pulled the wrapping off, as if he were almost afraid of what was inside. When he finally got all the wrapping off, he found a box. He opened the box slowly, then stared at the treasure inside. "You're giving this to me?"

Sly smiled. "Yeah…"

"But, your dad gave it to you…"

Sly shook his head quickly. "No, Wyoming, seriously, I'm not generous enough to give you the real deal. This is a copy Bentley and I stayed up late making. The metal is the same as mine, and it's styled the same way. It's smaller though, so you can use it easier, but when you need it, we'll give you an extension."

Wyoming held his prize triumphantly. The Cooper Cane… "Thanks so much Sly. This is an honor."

Sly waved his hands. "Oh, come on, don't get all mushy." Sly paused. "Speaking of mushy… How would you like to be an honorary Cooper?"

Wyoming's eyes were wide with shock.

"I mean, you're an orphan and all, and there's only one woman for me," here Wyoming laughed with amusement, "so I figure this is the only way to make the partnership really work. I officially adopt you, Wyoming Joe Travers, as my little brother, Wyoming Joe Travers Cooper. Or just Wylie Cooper for short."

"Wylie?" Wyoming tilted his head.

"Yeah, you know, Wylie. It's pronounced the same way as wily, spelled W-I-L-Y instead of your nickname, W-Y-L-I-E, and wily according to the Encarta Dictionary: English (North America) means crafty and skilled at using clever tricks to deceive people. So it's perfect! Sly Cooper and Wylie Cooper. Brothers and master thieves."

Wylie smiled. "Okay, I'll be Wylie Cooper."

The two brothers shook and hands and left for their mission.


	6. The Escape, The Painting, and The Kitten

The two silhouettes dashed across the rooftops of buildings. "We'll have to do something big, to introduce you to the world."

The second, shorter of the two, moved with the same lithe and speed, if not just a bit less. He looked at the taller silhouette. "Like what?"

"Like… the Mona Lisa." They were, of course, Sly Cooper and his unknown apprentice and brother, Wylie Cooper, and they were now at the very museum where the Mona Lisa was held. "Go," Sly whispered.

Wylie extended his claws and slowly made a fairly large circle in the glass. He pulled his claws carefully around the edge and removed the glass soundlessly. He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well, well, well. Not bad." Sly Cooper slipped through the small hole, then watched as his apprentice climbed in after. Floor lasers were everywhere. Not the kind that burned, the kind that set off a huge alarm that brought tons of police here in less than an instant. "Careful," Sly hissed as the apprentice nearly tripped the trap. "Stay where you are, let me handle this." Sly weaved his way through the floor lasers, expertly dodging the few moving beams until he stood before the face of Mona Lisa. "Hmm… I just don't see it. She kind of looks like a guy to me, but that's just my art perspective." He carefully removed the masterpiece and placed it on a glass container, holding some other artifacts. He then hung a small picture, his trademark, and took out a second beside it. He smiled as he position the blue raccoon face with the orange cat face. A message was attached. _Enjoy the art. Sly and Wylie Cooper._

Boy, would Carmelita be shocked to find out there were two Coopers to track now. The thought of her face made him grin broadly. "Okay, almost done now." He carefully carried the painting back it his brother and handed it to him.

"Umm, Sly…" Wylie stared at the entrance hole as if the InterPol had gathered just outside them.

"Yeah, Wylie?"

"The painting isn't gonna fit through that hole…"

"Oh, right. I'll handle it, hold the painting and step back a bit." Sly began to work at it, but Wylie backed up without looking, right into a floor laser. The alarm fired out a warning sound instantly as it droned on. Sly watched in horror as the lights around the museum lit up at an insane speed. Sly's eyes widened and he finished with the glass. "Wylie, hand me the painting!"

The orange tabby quickly handed Sly the picture, then Sly slipped through with it. "Hurry up!" Sly called as Wylie pushed himself through.

In an instant, the two thieves were running, racing at breakneck speed. But still the sound of the sirens droned on behind them. Sly picked up his pace just a bit, but when Wylie Cooper tried to imitate the speed, he stumbled over. Sly hadn't noticed until he was too far to get to the kid before the police, who were right on their tail, did. He stared for a moment, then continued running through the streets, towards his safe house… Towards safety…


	7. Truth and Trust

Before he knew what had happened he sat in the police car, the lights of the siren blinding him at first, and a pretty fox stepped into the car to drive. He recognized her from Sly's description of Carmelita. She was muttering something about it stupid ringtail, children, and the electric chair. Wyoming gulped nervously as she took off behind the other police cars.

The didn't speak the whole ride to the InterPol.

Once they were there, Wylie's Cooper Cane was examined, and found to be made of the same metal as Sly's. There were two Coopers?

After a bit, Carmelita circled Wyoming in her interrogation cell. She'd probed him, but he'd told her no more than his name: Wylie Cooper.

"Listen kid," She snarled.

"My name's not kid, it's Wylie."

"Listen, _Wylie_, do you know why you're here?"

"Because I robbed a museum."

"And what do you think we're going to do to you?"

Wylie took not a moment to hesitate. "Nothing. Do you know why?" He continued on without letting her speak. "Because Sly will save me."

Carmelita utter a dry, cruel laugh. "Sly will do nothing of the sort. Tell me, Wylie Cooper, how did you come upon Sly?"

Wylie paused. "He found me in an alley, I was crying-"

"Why?"

"Because I just found out my dad was-"

"Dead?" Carmelita barked, turning sharply.

Wyoming stared at his paws as if they would magically save him.

"Do you know why your father is dead?"

Wyoming looked at her. Confusion was sketched across his face as he stared at the orange fox.

"Your father is dead, because Sly Cooper killed him."


	8. Because of Sly Cooper

"What?" Wyoming's shocked mew echoed around the cell for several moments.

Carmelita frowned. "You poor thing, I'll explain it to you. Sly Cooper had just stolen a priceless vase from a local aristocrat. Of course, I was on his tail, chasing him down for the capture. Sly Cooper took a side route, hoping to loose me.

"Meanwhile, your father was on his way home from work. I don't know if he told you, but he'd recently gotten fired and to have enough money to feed you, he was working late. He was walk home from work, expecting to see is little boy, tuck him into bed, and protect him. He walked through the side route Sly Cooper took; it's a short cut to your own house.

"Cooper was on the run, and nothing would stop him. Your father was in the way. And any one in the way did not deserve their life. Sly Cooper shoved your father down the stairs of the café patio they were on, and your father fell down and broke his neck. This is what killed him. And did that bother Sly? Not in the least. Sly Cooper killed your father, ruined your life. He made you an orphan. And then he took you in, and left you when you fell on a heist. He left you. You do know you're going to juvenile hall until you come of age. Then you'll be sent to jail for the rest of your life."

Wyoming has appalled. Sly wasn't like that! Or… was he?

"You'll be going to court tomorrow for this. The juvenile court had an opening due to a last minute continuation, and I book it the instant I got back. There is no way you will be prove innocent."

Wyoming hung his head, defeated. The fox stood and walked over to him, un-cuffed him, and sent him to his cell. It was the more comfortable of all, for he was just a kid stuck in a nightmare. She felt bad for him, to be honest, but if he was a Cooper, he was no good.

"Get your sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day for you."


	9. The Trial, The End, and The Hero

Little sleep came to Wyoming that night as he picked his father being slaughter by his brother… no, not his brother. Not if what the fox said was true…

The time was unknown to him, but at last, Carmelita came to his cell to take him out. She drove him to the hearing and slowly they entered the courtroom.

The judge was a pudgy pug with small beady eyes. He looked as if he had a short fuse and didn't want his judgment questioned. Not by anyone.

Carmelita sat at one side and Wylie was shoved to the other. His lawyer looked clueless… She didn't know much about the case, and was shocked to find out that orange kitten with soft innocent eyes was the actual culprit here. The judge flipped out, and said if he says it's the one on trial, then he's right, i.e. get over it.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Ponton!" The baliff called.

And it only went downhill from there.

The case was short; it only lasted about eight hours. There was no doubt the trial would be the same as Carmelita's prediction. The jury had come back, and were now about to read their decision when a voice rang out.

"I'm not too late to be called to the witness stand, am I?" The suave sneaky voice that had once calmed Wyoming now sent chills through his fur.

"Cooper!" Carmelita leapt to her feet so fast she almost knocked the table over.

"Whoa, Carmelita, chill, I'm not going anywhere," Sly replied smoothly.

"Sly Cooper, what are you doing here? You are interrupting my case!" Judge Ponton shouted angrily.

Sly glanced at Wyoming, who instantly turned his gaze away. "I came to… offer a deal. Let the kid go… he was following my lead, I put him up to it. Let him go, he's not the criminal. If you let him go, I'll go without a fight. Any punishment you decided. Anything."

This offer sent the crowd that had gathered murmuring to each other, and the Judge had a look of pleasure on his face. Ending the 'Great Master Thief' Sly Cooper… a dream come true! Carmelita however, wasn't convinced. But she didn't speak up.

"Do we have a deal?" Sly asked, his voice cracking with worry. He quickly cleared his throat and made himself appear calm once more. The courtroom remained silent. "I said, do we have a deal?" Sly repeated, his voice clear and demanding.

"Tell me one thing, Cooper: Why would you do this?" Carmelita had voiced the question.

Sly stared at Wyoming. "Because I adopted Wyoming Cooper as my brother, and brothers don't let each other down. It was my fault, not his."

"Well, then," Judge Ponton rasped. "Let the boy go, and get this treacherous ringtail to jail!"

The guards and InterPol officers that had come along swarmed Cooper like mad. In an instant he was cuffed. He looked as defeated as Wyoming had… maybe worse.

Carmelita walked over to Wyoming and whispered. "You're free again."

Wylie shoved her away and raced over to Sly. He buried his tear-stained face in his brother's gray fur. "Don't take him away, please! Please don't take him away!"

Sly was hit with the memory of screaming for his father to wake. He looked at his brother for a long moment. "Can I say something?"

The room was silent, but Ponton finally rasped. "Sure, then we'll send you to jail. You can make up for that time later."  
"Since I am an ex-master thief, I have no need for my belongings." Glares of alarm were sent at him. They must have thought he meant things he stolen. "My inherited belongings. So I leave my cane to the only Cooper member remaining: Wylie. And," he tore his hands away from the officers and took off his hat. He quickly placed it on Wylie's head before the police grabbed his hands again. "My hat. It looks good on you."

"Sly," Wyoming mewed, "Please don't go…"

Sly stared at Wyoming's wet face. "I'm sorry…" One crystal tear ran down his cheek as he was lead away by the officers. He could heard Wyoming sobbing in the background and then sat in the police car. He'd finally been captured. The Cooper was finally going to serve time for his crimes. He stared at his toes in thought and wondered if he'd done the right thing. A smile was on his face despite the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He had done the right thing, whether that was how he felt or not. He knew, he had done the right thing.

**Yup, this is the end. I will probably write a sequel. I know, crummy, sad ending, but Sly had to do the right thing…**


End file.
